Auld Lang Syne
by rantandrumour
Summary: It's New Year's Eve on the most tumultuous year of Alex Drake's life. Try as she might, she can't get one certain man out of her head.
1. Chapter 1

**After the fluff of Christmas, I felt it suitable to follow up with this. (Actually, I wrote this a week before my Christmas fic, and thought it out about two weeks before that. So nevermind with that statement then.) But for those of you that actually read the headers it is a two shot little thing. I do love to drag things out. Also I hope you all had a Merry Christmas, and for those of you wishing for a naked Philip under your tree (I can't understand that. _Phil?_ _Really? _Eh, not my cup of tea. I prefer the skinny blokes with fabulous hair)that you got him. And if you didn't, I hope you got something else that made you just as happy, or somewhere near that range of happiness. (See what I mean about dragging things out? This a/n is a story in itself!)**

Alex stared out the window at the gently falling snow and took a sip of champagne. Technically, she wasn't allowed to drink it, but she had swiped a glass when the nurse's back was turned and then disappeared into her room. There was too much happiness out there, and she wanted to be alone to brood. It was the end of the year, the most tumultuous year of her life, even including the year her parents died.

An ache started on the left side of her head and she knew that if she did not receive pain medication soon, it would turn into a full blown migraine. Migraines were just one of the many side effects that the bullet had left. After waking up, she had had to relearn how to walk and talk, and was blind in her left eye. One of her skull fragments had severed the nerve leading from her eye. It still was disconcerting, especially since she had little depth perception now. She knew that when she was released from the rehab facility, she would not be able to drive. Not that it really mattered in a city like London.

Her head started to throb and she sighed. Alex hid the glass of champagne behind a curtain and turned her wheelchair around. She still wasn't allowed to walk without nurse assistance, as the right side of her body was still too weak. She still had trouble even moving her legs to walk the wheelchair along, and her right arm was not strong enough yet to push her. She struggled down the hallway, where the staff and patients were all laughing around the television. Many had champagne, or for those who weren't allowed, sparkling apple juice. They were all eagerly awaiting the New Year, making the best of their situations.

Alex tapped a nurse in the middle of the back, the only place she could reach, and arranged her features into the appropriate look of pain. The nurse turned and looked at Alex, her face one of concern. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Migraine," Alex whispered, still unable to form a fully coherent sentence, something which frustrated her to no end. She had been shot in July, for God's sake. She should be recovered enough to speak in a normal sentence by now!

"You're getting one? Or you've already got one?" the nurse asked.

Alex held up two fingers and then held her head. She knew she had to make a show out of this, otherwise, someone would inevitably turn up at five til midnight to wheel her down to ring in the New Year. The nurse looked at her sympathetically before going to grab the medication. She came back just moments later with a cup of pills and a glass of water. Alex swallowed the tablets and then looked at the nurse.

"Bed," Alex said wearingly and pleadingly.

The nurse nodded and smiled. "Sleep well, Alex."

Alex gave the tiniest of smiles and returned to her room, removing the champagne from its hiding spot and returning to look out the window.

Three years. She had spent three years in the eighties, fighting and wishing to get home. She had only been back six months, and she was already severely wishing that Layton's bullet had killed her. She was weak now, powerless. She couldn't stand on her own and she had to call someone anytime she needed to use the loo. She had had to learn how to eat with her left hand, and she still couldn't write. She felt like a young child, and she hated it.

The worst part was that Molly had been taken from her. Pete, who had never cared about his daughter before, developed a sudden interest. The courts had agreed that Alex was unfit to care for Molly, and had ruled in his favour instead of letting Molly stay with her godfather. And Alex hadn't been allowed to say goodbye. She wasn't even informed that Molly was leaving, as it was deemed it would stress her out too much. She had wept bitterly when she found out and refused to do anything for nearly a week until she realised that doing absolutely nothing would not help her win back Molly any sooner. But by losing Molly, she had lost the only thing that she had to fight for, and was now prone to severe doubts of depression. The antidepressants prescribed lifted her mood slightly, but they were the reason she was now sneaking the champagne.

She had told no one of the eighties. How could she tell them? No one would believe her, not even a psychologist. She knew that much from Sam. She hadn't believed Sam until she had experienced Gene Hunt for herself. And she hadn't been able to understand why Sam wanted to go back so bad until she herself had returned to the 'real world'.

The world was too grey here. She missed her clothes, she missed her mates, and most of all, she missed Gene. That combination of things provided the colour she had been missing in her life. And she hadn't even realised the colour it had provided until she returned. The constant fights with Gene had given her fuel, the cases had kept her distracted. Here she had nothing to focus on except trying to get her damn leg to work.

She sighed, staring out the window and watching the snow covered path. She saw a man walking along the path outside, as if to come to the clinic. He was tall, and his head was bent against the cold, his collar turned up. Alex ignored him. It was too late for visitors, and even if it wasn't, she never had visitors anyway. Ever since Molly had been whisked away by Peter, she had been alone. Evan stopped by occasionally, but his work kept him too busy.

Alex sighed, moving herself into bed fully clothed. With her weak arm and leg, she couldn't change herself without a nurse's help and didn't want to call them in at the moment. She rolled onto her side, blocking her eyes against the light she had forgotten to turn off. The migraine was getting worse. In fact, it was the worst that she had ever had since she had woken up from her coma. Right now, her head was throbbing painfully, bad enough to bring tears to her eyes. She started to drift into sleep as she heard the patients and nurses singing out in the corridor.

"_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_And never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_And auld lang syne!_

If she had not been in bed, she would have raised the champagne flute, remembering the friends from so long ago. The friends she would never see again. She felt a burning in her eyes. Alex blinked away the tears, trying to banish away the memories of Chris and Shaz, of Ray and of Gene. However, they continued to come, the memories of Christmas' and New Year's Days long forgotten rising to the surface.

She drifted to sleep, still swamped in memories, listening to the group outside singing horribly.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Alex sat straight up, startled. She thought that the nurses wouldn't bother her, since she had a migraine. They usually left her well enough alone when she had one. Why were they disturbing her now?

"Come," she called. A nurse entered the room, her face inscrutable.

"Alex, you have a visitor."

Alex frowned. "Now?"

"He says it's his only night in town and he begged to come see you."

Alex was puzzled. She had no idea who this person would be. Finally, she nodded her head and the nurse ushered in a tall blonde man in his mid to late thirties. For a moment her heart leapt at the sight, but she knew that it was impossible. The nurse left the room, and the man moved more into her sightline. He was wearing a dark coat that had been unbuttoned to reveal a jumper and jeans. The man was slim, but not overly so. However, what drew Alex in was his eyes. They were the bright silver blue that she remembered seeing on Gene so many years ago.

The man smiled. "I should introduce myself. I'm Matt."

Alex smiled cautiously. "Alex."

"I know," Matt breathed. "I can't believe it's really you!"

Alex frowned. Matt seemed to sense her unease and reigned in his excitement.

"I'm sorry. I just...This must all seem so awkward."

Alex nodded. How would this man know her?

"You must be wondering how I know you. Well, of you. I'll start at the beginning. I was born up in Manchester in 1974. In 1980, my mum and dad divorced and Dad moved down to London after his best friend died. In 1983, I went down to visit my Dad. I noticed that he seemed different. He didn't seem as cheerful to see me and his CID was more depressed than his Manchester one had been. I asked him what happened, and he told me that his DI had gone missing. He showed me her picture, a DI Alex Drake, and told me all these wonderful stories about the woman. I became a one boy fan club of the woman. From that point on, every time I visited Dad, I'd make him tell me stories of Alex Drake.

"And then, in July, I was watching the news. Dad wasn't doing well; he was pretty much on his deathbed. The main story that night was of a Met detective who had gone missing and been found hours later on an abandoned boat, shot in the head. They didn't know if she would survive.

"I was listening half-heartedly until I heard them mention the name. 'DI Alex Drake,' the woman said. I looked at the television, and saw your photo. It was a bit different than your eighties photos, but I knew it was you. And so did Dad. He looked at the screen, turned to me and spoke for the first time in days. 'That's her,' he said. 'That's Bolly. How the hell did she get here?'

"A few days later, he died, but not before he gave me a message to give you. I spent the past several months trying to track you down, which I guarantee you was no easy task. But now I'm here, and I have Dad's note for you."

Alex was reeling. Gene's world was _real?_ She had actually gone to the past?

Matt handed Alex the note and she opened it, holding it in both hands.

That was her first inclination that something was wrong.

There was no way she was able to use both hands to hold the letter, never mind open it. Also, she was still relearning how to read, and she was able to decipher words easily on the letter.

"This is all a dream," she whispered, confirming her suspicions with the ability to speak a coherent sentence.

Matt smiled at her. "He wanted you back by his side until the very end, Alex. Sometimes I think he died, just waiting for you to return. He never forgot you. And you can't forget him." Suddenly Matt started singing.

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot, _

_And never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_And auld lang syne!_

Alex closed her eyes remembering Gene, wishing that he was there. Matt continued singing, but his voice grew distant as finally, the dream ended and she drifted away into happy silence.

~(*)~

The nurse walked down the silent corridor. The patients had gone to bed soon after ringing in the New Year, leaving the halls quiet. It was dark, save for one light that shone in the corridor through the crack under a door. The nurse looked at the room, confused. Alex had said that she had a migraine and went to bed over an hour ago. Her light should be off and she should be sound asleep. The nurse rapped lightly on the door but there was no response. She pushed the door open.

"Alex?" the nurse called. The nurse saw Alex lying fully clothed on her bed, arm covering her eyes. The woman in the bed did not stir. The nurse went to Alex's side and shook her gently. "Alex, let's get into your pyjamas."

Alex still did not move. Frustrated and growing concerned, the nurse rolled Alex over and gasped. A bluish-tinged smile crept eerily across the woman's snow white face.

**Happy New Year!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I thought I'd end the year on a good note (with my readers liking me...)**

**Chapter Two**

Gene stared across CID. It had been nearly a year since Alex had disappeared without a trace. They had been on a case. One moment, she had been standing over the body, muttering to herself, and the next, she had looked up in shock. When he asked her what was going on, she hadn't responded, merely staring, mesmerised at the corner of the street. She had said that she would be back in a moment, but she turned the corner and had been missing ever since.

After she had disappeared, the whole atmosphere of CID had changed. Where it was once lazy and relaxed, it was now lazy, but tense at the same time. It was the same feel that he had gotten at GMP right after Sam had died. Everyone knew that it could happen to them at any moment, that they could go missing or die in the line of duty. That knowledge kept them on edge. Gene knew that people didn't like dealing with the facts of their mortality.

He didn't exactly know how he had gotten through the past year. It had been a record for the number of black moods and bouts of depression, rivalled only by the year of 1980, when Sam had died and his divorce had been finalised. He supposed the only reason he had gotten through was the fact that he had thrown himself into his work tenfold, and concentrated on little else. The long nights at the office had gotten longer and nights at Luigi's, shorter. The Italian had actually been harassing him lately because his bar tab for once was actually paid off.

There was a knock at his door and he motioned for the man outside it to enter. It was DCI Blake. DCI Blake was in charge of Fenchurch West and at the moment, they were liaising on a drugs case. They were certain that they had found a house where the druggies went to feel safe, and were now organising a raid.

"We've got it all in place," Blake said as soon as he entered the office. He was always direct and to the point, something Gene liked. "Lowe's arranged a sell late this morning and he made it sound big. He's got some of the biggest names coming to take a look at his goods. We need to get into place within the next three hours. Fill in your team and let them know their positions."

Gene nodded and walked out of his office filling in his team on the case. He scanned his eyes across the room, pausing his eyes as always on Drake's old desk. A new man sat there, but to him the desk would always be Alex's. He finished the brief, and everyone checked their guns and made sure that handcuffs were in their pockets.

"Let's go get plod and fire up the Quattro."

Three hours later, they sat outside the house, waiting for the signal. Their undercover operative, DI Lowe had taken in a WPC as backup. The WPC was their signal. She was going to walk across a certain window when the deal was going on. When she did, they would raid the house.

Suddenly, a woman walked across the window. Gene's radio buzzed.

"_That's the signal,"_ said Blake's voice. _"Let's go."_

The two CID's and group of Uniform ran at the house from all different sides. As soon as he entered the house, he was thrown into confusion. Druggies were running everywhere, punching at the coppers and trying to get away. It was nothing that Gene hadn't been in before and he downed several people before deciding to head upstairs to get any others that were trying to run. He kicked each of the doors open, finding only empty rooms.

Finally, he kicked open the last door, seeing a woman lying on her side, facing the wall. She was curled up into a ball, and her head was buried in her elbow to block her eyes from the light. The woman's figure looked familiar, as did the set of her jaw. Gene walked over to the woman, hardly breathing, not daring to hope, and gently shook her shoulder.

"You need to wake up."

The woman did nothing. Gene shook her again, and when she did not respond, he turned her over, removing the arm from in front of her face.

"Shit," he breathed. He was stunned. He was absolutely stunned and ecstatic. After a year of searching and wondering, he had finally found Alex.

~(*)~

Sounds swirled around her, but she wasn't sure what was going on. She heard a woman scream for help and then a multitude of voices. Through the din, she heard one voice speak clearly.

"_What do you think happened?"_

"_As far as I can surmise, she had a brain bleed,"_ said another voice._ You said that she had had a migraine before bed. There must have been something we missed, and the alcohol wouldn't have helped matters. We won't know anything until we can run some tests."_

The noise took over again for a few minutes. She could hear counting and people shouting out numbers and random medical words. Finally, the voice spoke once more._ "I'm calling it. Time of death zero-one-twenty-six. Go ahead and notify next of kin."_

Alex heard the click of shoes on a floor and then there was nothing but silence. She wondered who had died. It was extremely rare for anyone to die in a rehabilitation centre, but she supposed that it had happened before.

She felt stiff and groaned, trying to adjust herself slightly. At least her migraine had disappeared. She would have hated to spend the entire day in bed because her head hurt. She had done that before and it wasn't an experience she wanted to relive.

Suddenly, two arms snaked underneath her back and knees and she had the sensation of being lifted into the air. Frightened, Alex tried to open her eyes, only to find that she couldn't. She was terrified. Who was holding her? Where were they taking her? What had happened that they were removing her from her room without waking her up?

There were sounds around her, but they were garbled noise and nothing more. She couldn't distinct anything. She felt like she was falling for a moment before she landed on something solid. Whoever was carrying her had set her down.

Sounds started to make more sense. She heard a voice, sounding like it was coming from miles away, but oddly familiar.

"_She made a small noise on the way over, but she hasn't moved or done anything since."_

Someone pulled up her left eyelid and shone a bright light into it, blinding her. The person did the same to the other eye, and as that eyelid was released, all she could see was brightly coloured spots.

"_I don't see anything wrong with her externally,"_ said another voice, just as distanced as the other. _"It's just a waiting game."_

Alex was starting to get worried. What was wrong with her? Why was someone examining her? Where was she now? A thought started nagging in the back of her head, but she ignored it determinedly.

"_You need to wake up," _said the familiar voice, seeming closer now. _"I'll be back in a little bit."_

Alex heard the sound of a door opening and shutting. She took a deep breath, focusing on nothing but trying to open her eyes. Suddenly, a startling realisation hit her. The man had shown a light in _both_ eyes. She had seen it _both_ times. The nagging thought came back, and this time she let it through.

_What if __I'm__ the one that died?_

Steeling herself, she concentrated on pulling her eyes open. She had to find out where she was. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she got an eye open just a crack. The light assaulted it and she shut it tightly, groaning. The door clicked open again. She wanted to see who was in the room with her and forced herself to open her eye again, blinking several times to adjust herself to the light.

Her first thought was that she was mad.

Shaz was standing at the doorway, in civilian clothes, looking stunned. She mouthed a few words silently and then walked abruptly out of the room.

Alex opened her other eye, now concentrating on sitting up, thinking about what she had seen. She was back in the eighties. If she was in the eighties that meant one of two things. Either she had gone back into a coma, or she was...

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Gene said suddenly, snapping her out of her morbid train of thought.

Alex looked at him, her mouth open, amazed at seeing him for the first time in months.

"First time I've seen you bloody speechless. Shaz, record this moment. We'll need to remember it forever."

Alex still did not say anything, trying to process all the information. She was distracted by the fact that she could see out of both eyes and the fact that she had full control over the right side of her body.

"Bolly," Gene said, and she looked at him, rejoicing in the improvement to her vision. "Are you okay?"

She considered the question for a moment. "I...I think so."

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, one second you're on a case with us, you walk to the corner and you disappear for a year. Where were you? Where did you go? How did you end up in a druggie house?"

Alex frowned, trying to remember anything after walking to the corner of the street. To her frustration, her memories of 2008 were fading quickly. She realised with a stab of despair that she had to be dead there, that she had left Molly behind. Wait, who was Molly? Try as she might, she couldn't remember who Molly was.

"Where were you?" Gene repeated. Suspicion started to glint in his eyes.

"I...I dunno," Alex answered honestly. "I don't remember."

"A whole year is out of your memory?"

Alex nodded, suddenly fearful. "God, Gene. What happened to me?" She didn't understand why, but she was immensely relieved to be talking in complete sentences.

"That's what I'm bloody trying to find out from you woman!" He glared at her for a moment before leaving the interview room. She could hear him shouting down the corridor.

A few moments later, he entered, flanked by two men. One was the station doctor, who was armed with a needle and vials.

"The doctor is going to collect a blood sample from you, Alex."

"Why?"

"You were in a druggie house. God only knows what's in your system."

"Who's he?" she asked, pointing to the second man as the doctor started to take her blood.

"This is DI Lowe. That's the most you need to know about him."

"I've never seen her before in my life, sir," the man said. "I don't know how she got in or how long she'd been there."

Gene considered this a moment before nodding. Both the doctor and DI Lowe left the room.

"What's the date?" Alex asked.

"New Year's Eve," Gene replied, taking a seat next to her on the table.

"Year?"

"1983. Tomorrow's 1984. Just think, we'll all be ruled by Big Brother come tomorrow."

Alex smiled and then looked at him quizzically. "I didn't know you read."

"Full of surprises. For example, tonight I'm going to a revival of 'The Caretaker' at the Royal Court."

Alex smiled inwardly, but decided to play along. "Are you?"

"Nope."

There was a moment of silence. "Do I still have my flat?" she asked suddenly.

Gene nodded. "We refused to clean it out – too lazy – so we just pay it off every month."

"We could go there tonight and get wildly pissed to celebrate the New Year," Alex suggested causally.

"Y'know, Bolls, I like your thinking."

~(*)~

Gene stared at the clock on the wall, eagerly waiting for lunchtime. Alex had stopped by CID, staying only a few minutes before leaving to go to her flat and shower. Gene had been frowning at his paperwork since then, filling it out methodically, not really thinking about it. However, his mind was racing. He wasn't sure what was going on with Alex. How could she have no idea what had happened? She had been missing for nearly a year; surely she remembered _something._ Another question he had was why was she so distanced?

The clocked ticked to six and he stood immediately, yelling at the idle CID to go to lunch. He knew that most of them would be down in Luigi's to help ring in the New Year. He ignored the trattoria, instead going to the side steps, and straight up to her flat. He knocked on the door and she opened it, wearing leggings and a jumper that fell off her shoulder. A striped vest showed underneath. She was barefoot, and her hair was tucked behind her ears. There was no makeup on her face, but in his opinion, that was how she looked the best.

"Come in," she said, smiling softly. He walked through to her sofa, where a bottle of wine was already uncorked, two glasses sitting out.

_I should have brought something,_ Gene thought suddenly to himself. _She can't have much here. _

"Are you...er...hungry?" she asked awkwardly.

"Not really." He started to take in his surroundings, surprised by how clean it was. After spending nearly a year untouched, he expected the flat to be covered in dust. However, all surfaces were clean; he couldn't see a speck of it anywhere.

"It's very clean in here, Bolls."

"I spent the afternoon cleaning. Luigi was so delighted to see me, he made me make a grocery list and bought them for me. He wouldn't even let me pay him back."

"Crazy Italians," Gene murmured, settling himself on the sofa. Alex sat next to him, tucking her feet up underneath her.

"So have I missed anything?" she asked, pouring them both a glass of wine.

"Just the investigation into where you went. That went on for nearly a month."

Alex looked guilty. "I'm sorry."

Gene shook his head. "Do you remember anything more?"

She frowned, straining to remember. "It all just slips away. I get little flashes here and there, but nothing significant."

"Can you tell me your flashes?" He knew that even the flashes would help to figure out where she was.

"There were nurses. I was half blind. I couldn't use my arm or leg. They said I couldn't have alcohol...There was a migraine, and..." She went silent for a moment, before speaking once more. "There was a man."

"What kind of a man?" Finally, they were getting somewhere!

"A nice man. Blonde. Eyes like yours. Matthew."

Gene stared at her, perturbed. Matthew was his son. Matthew had his eyes. How would she know that? He was growing more confused, even as she started to speak more confidently.

"He said that you missed me. He said he saw me on the telly and had to come find me. And then he sang. And that's it."

"That sounds like a dream, Alex."

"It feels like it was," she said vaguely, off in her own world. "But at the same time, it feels completely real."

Gene handed her a glass of wine. "Here, drink up. You usually make more sense when your pissed."

A few hours later, they were counting down to the New Year. Alex had all but forgotten why she was so troubled, and Gene seemed to have forgotten as well. They were both extremely inebriated, having consumed two bottles of wine and half a bottle of scotch between them.

The clock struck twelve and downstairs, she heard Luigi's customers start to sing.

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_And never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot_

_And auld lang syne?_

Suddenly, Alex realised where she had been for the past eleven months. She had spent six in the future, trying to recover from a bullet wound to the head. But in the end, a complication had taken her. The realisation was enough to shock her into sobriety. She knew that she couldn't tell Gene, and that in the morning she'd probably have forgotten again, but for now, she couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. She'd lost Molly, permanently.

_For auld lang syne, my dear_

_For auld lang syne_

_We'll take a cup of kindness yet,_

_For auld lang syne._

Gene was staring at her, as if trying to work out a riddle. Just as she was about to ask him what he was looking at, he leaned forward suddenly, placing a kiss on her lips.

Alex stiffened, surprised, but relaxed after a moment without thinking. It just felt so _right. _This is where she belonged. She'd meet Molly again, one day long into the future. Until then, she would stay with Gene.

Someone downstairs started up a chorus of Auld Lang Syne again. She knew that the first line was a rhetorical question, but maybe, just this once, it was right. Just this once, the old times had to be forgotten. She had to forget her life in the future. She wasn't ever going to go back there. And to be truly happy here, old times had to be forgotten.

She smiled to herself as Gene put his hand on the back of her head, the other around her waist. This was where she wanted to be.

_We'll take a cup of kindness yet _

_For auld lang syne._

__**Rant**


End file.
